


Jumping to Conclusions

by MagicaDraconia16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Snarry-A-Thon16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>”When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me”</i>. Harry really should stop jumping to conclusions before he’s heard all the facts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumping to Conclusions

The doors to Gringotts Bank flew open with a bang, and what looked like a small hurricane rushed through before the goblins guarding the doors could move a muscle. 

“Where is he?!” a panic-stricken voice cried out. 

Several goblins looked up from the ledgers they were studying, and most of the wizarding folk nearby turned their heads to gape, but nobody answered the question, until a throat cleared in the depths of the shadows at the far end of the entrance hall. 

The small hurricane instantly charged in that direction. Severus Snape barely caught himself as his lover and partner crashed into him with such force that they almost toppled over. 

“What is it?” the hurricane babbled. “When did you find out? _Oh_ ,” it made a high, distressed sound in its throat, and became tearful. “How long do you have?” 

“Harry. Har-Harry!” Severus tried, his voice hitching as hands began roaming all over him, in a manner that felt far more suited to the privacy of their bedroom than the public entrance hall of Gringotts. “ _Potter!_ ” he barked, finally, and forcibly separated himself from the wandering hands. “Merlin, what has gotten into you?” he demanded. 

Harry Potter’s tear-drenched green eyes gazed up at him. “I . . . I got your note,” he said, brandishing a crumpled piece of parchment in one hand. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Sev, please – have they said how long you have?” 

“How long I have for what?” Severus asked, his brows drawing together in confusion. “And who is _they_?” 

“The Healers . . . doctors . . . whoever you’ve seen,” Harry said. “And how long do you have—” he gulped, and closed his eyes “—to live?” 

With his eyes still closed, Harry completely missed the shocked expression that appeared on Severus’ face. 

“Perhaps you should explain things a bit more,” Severus suggested, finally. “Perhaps the beginning would be a good place to start?” 

Harry gave a brief nod, and somehow managed to nestle himself back into Severus’ arms before the older wizard noticed. “It started this morning—” he began.

* * *

_Several hours earlier . . ._

“Sev?” Harry sleepily stumbled downstairs, rubbing the grit from his eyes as he made his way towards the kitchen and the glorious nectar known as coffee. The coffee he found in the Ever-Warm pot, but the kitchen was bereft of any tall, dark and brooding wizards. 

Harry made a slightly wobbly line towards the coffee. He’d figure out the mystery of where his partner had gone once his brain was a little more awake. No doubt Severus had actually told him at some point that he was going somewhere – running errands, or picking up ingredients, or some such – but likely Harry had forgotten. He didn’t tend to remember much until he’d had at least three large mugs of coffee in the morning. 

To his surprise, there was already a mug standing in front of the Ever-Warm pot, with a pale pink envelope resting on top of it. Harry blinked at it, then smiled. Severus had modified a Howler to leave a message for him, rather than just writing it out like everybody else did. 

He nudged it off his mug, and picked up the Ever-Warm pot to begin pouring his coffee while the message floated up to hover in front of his face and opened. 

“Potter,” Severus’ warm tones floated out of the envelope, “it is half past seven, and I am leaving you—” 

“ _What?!_ ” Harry dropped the coffee pot and gripped the edge of the counter to prevent himself from crumpling to the floor. Ignoring the pain of the burning coffee that had splashed him, he closed his eyes against the sting of forming tears. 

There was a huff of amused exasperation from the envelope. “— _sleeping peacefully in bed_ ,” it continued, and Harry could _hear_ the way Severus had rolled his eyes as he’d dictated that bit. 

“Oh,” he mouthed, as it struck him that Severus hadn’t meant he was leaving Harry for good. 

“ _Reparo. Evanesco_ ,” the message continued, and the Ever-Warm pot repaired itself and floated back up to the counter as the spilled coffee vanished. “Perhaps I should have charmed this letter to appear after you’d had at least one cup of coffee.” 

Considering that Severus had apparently correctly guessed exactly what would happen, Harry wondered why he hadn’t. 

“Now that your brain is more alert, though, then perhaps it may retain the following words more easily: I have gone to Diagon Alley to run some errands. I don’t anticipate being too long, but I have to wait on somebody else to make an appointment so I may be gone longer than I think. If you’re free – and still alive – at lunchtime, you may find me in the Barnacle’s Claw if you so wish.” The envelope began folding itself up, then paused and opened again. “Have I ever mentioned how adorable you look whilst you sleep?” And with that, it tore itself into tiny pieces. 

_Severus thinks I’m adorable?_ Harry felt a goofy smile forming, then the previous words sank in, and he frowned. “If I’m still alive?” he repeated, out loud. “I’m not _that_ clumsy, Severus!” 

To prove it, he went to pour another cup of coffee, and promptly spilled some on his hand.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry was sucking the blood from the cut on his finger that he’d gotten while chopping vegetables when a rather elegant but grumpy-looking owl tapped its beak on the kitchen window. 

Hermione, who had been invited over with Ron for lunch, shook her head as Harry went to let it in. “Honestly,” she tutted, getting up from the kitchen table. “Why have you never taken Mrs Weasley up on her offer to teach you cooking spells?” 

“Probably for the same reason _you_ still call her ‘Mrs Weasley’, even though she’s been your mother-in-law for three years now,” Harry retorted, grinning over his shoulder at her. Hermione blushed, and Ron tried to disguise his chuckle behind a cough. “Besides, I like cooking the Muggle way.” 

“It just doesn’t like you back,” Ron chortled. 

“No,” Harry admitted, ruefully, opening the window for the owl. It hopped onto the sill, and then pecked sharply at his nearby fingers. “Ow!” he exclaimed, jerking his hand back and shaking it. “I guess this owl doesn’t like me, either.” 

“It’s a Gringotts owl,” Hermione said from in front of the oven. “They never like anyone.” 

Harry glanced at Ron and raised his eyebrows in question. 

“Bill uses them sometimes,” his friend explained. “And usually our vault statements are delivered by them, too.” 

“Here.” Hermione rummaged in a pocket of her robes, pulled out a chunk of what looked like grey rock to Harry, and offered it to the owl. The owl twisted its head, examining the offering from every angle before finally giving an imperious-sounding hoot and snatching the rock from her very-carefully-lax fingers, thrusting its leg out at Harry at the same moment. 

Keeping a wary eye on the sharp beak – he figured he’d already lost enough blood for today – Harry hastily removed the small scroll and then skipped backwards out of range. The owl ruffled its feathers at him, then turned and launched itself back out of the window. 

“Just how often is sometimes, if you carry special treats for their owls?” Harry asked as he closed it. He unrolled the letter and read it out loud. “ _Harry, meet me at Gringotts this afternoon at 15:00. I have made an appointment to have our wills drawn up. Severus._ Wills?” he repeated, staring at the letter as though it would suddenly rearrange itself and make more sense. “What do we need to have wills drawn up for?” 

Ron cleared his throat, slightly awkwardly and apologetically. “Hermione insisted that we have ours done, just after she found out she was pregnant with Rosie,” he said. 

“Pregnant,” Harry repeated, blankly. Then, as the word sank in, “ _Pregnant_?!” And then, after another few seconds of thought, “Can wizards even _get_ pregnant?!” 

Hermione tutted. “Honestly, Harry,” she said. “Of _course_ wizards can’t get pregnant! Just think of the fuss if they did!” And she turned back to whatever she was cooking with a mutter that Harry didn’t care to hear too clearly, but included the words “sex ed. lessons” and “what _was_ Dumbledore thinking?” 

Okay, so if it wasn’t because of a child, then why was Severus making out a will? _Oh!_ Harry gave a soundless gasp. Just because it wasn’t _their_ child, didn’t mean that there wasn’t _a_ child! 

“Mate?” Ron sounded concerned, and Harry realised that tears were forming in his eyes. 

“What if—” Harry started, and then had to swallow a lump in his throat as his voice broke. “What if Severus has had a child with someone else?” 

There was a pause. Hermione turned around to gaze at him quizzically, then she glanced sideways at Ron. “You think Severus cheated on you?” she asked, finally. 

“If Severus is making a will because of a kid, and wizards can’t get pregnant, then the only way that could happen is if some . . . _witch_ is pregnant,” Harry spat. His fists clenched, crumpling the parchment that was still in one hand. 

“Harry . . .” Hermione began, tentatively. “Does that really seem likely? Severus loves you.” 

“Then explain this!” Harry shouted, brandishing the parchment at her. A hiss punctuated his words, as whatever Hermione had on the stove boiled over. 

Gently, Hermione prised the parchment from his fingers and pushed him into a nearby chair. “There are more reasons than just having children to have a will done up, Harry,” she said, softly. 

“Yeah,” said Ron. “Like . . . making sure all your affairs are in order—” 

“But don’t you only do that if you’re dying?” asked Harry, then he gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my God,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “Do you think _Severus_ is _dying_?!” 

“No, no, I’m sure he’s not!” Hermione said, quickly, glaring at Ron. Ron looked sheepishly down at the table. “You know how organised Severus is, Harry, he’s probably just being practical—” 

Harry refused to be placated. “But something must have prompted him to do this,” he argued, then remembered Severus’ note from that morning, and gasped again. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Severus said he had to wait for someone else to make an appointment,” he said, breathlessly. “What if he was waiting for a Healer, or a doctor?” 

Ron and Hermione were beginning to look a bit alarmed, although Harry wasn’t sure whether that was because they finally grasped the gravity of the situation, or if they were just worried for him. 

“I have to go find him!” Harry decided, bouncing to his feet. 

Hermione caught his wrist before he could Apparate away. “Let’s just . . . let’s just sit down and _think_ for a minute,” she said, giving Ron a quick glance before pushing Harry back into his chair. “I sincerely doubt Severus is dying. He wouldn’t have had much chance to get things organised during the war—” 

“Didn’t have much and didn’t have anyone to leave it _to_ ,” Ron muttered, placing a vial that had come from Merlin knew where onto the table in front of Harry. Hermione gave him a brisk nod and reached for her wand, giving it a quick loop-and-flail. A china cup popped neatly into existence in between them, steaming gently. 

Harry stared at it. He hadn’t known you could conjure tea out of thin air. 

“Severus has had no _reason_ to have a will drawn up before now,” Hermione continued, tipping the contents of the vial into the cup and then pushing it in front of Harry. “Now that he has you, he’d want to make sure that everything would be sorted for you in case . . . well, in case.” 

“You don’t have a will, either, mate,” Ron pointed out. “Getting ‘em done together just seems sensible.” 

Harry sipped his tea – after a stern glare from Hermione – and felt the calming potion begin to creep through his system. “You really think so?” he asked, glancing from one of his friends to the other. “You really think that’s all it is?” 

“We know so,” they chorused, smiling at him. 

“Okay, then,” he said, smiling back. Then his eyes drifted over Hermione’s shoulder. “Uh, Hermione?” 

“Yes, Harry?” she asked, brightly. 

“Your lunch is on fire.”

* * *

By the time his friends had finished lunch – they’d had to order takeout, since their original lunch had been unsalvageable – and gone, it was closing in on two o’clock, and Harry’s thoughts were turning back to Severus again. Maybe the idea that Severus had cheated on him had been farfetched – after all, if he’d had a secret child, then drawing up a will in the same room as Harry was not the way to _keep_ it a secret – but something must still have happened. _You don’t just decide to go and draw up a will for no reason at all_ , Harry thought. 

He found himself wandering from room to room, unable to settle. Absurdly, he had the vague idea that if he sat down, he’d lose himself in some task and forget about going to meet Severus. Although, if he missed their appointment, then Severus wouldn’t be able to have his will drawn up, and whatever was wrong would be pushed away for just a little longer . . . 

_Are you a Gryffindor or aren’t you?_ he scolded himself. Ignoring the appointment would just make Severus angry, and annoy the goblins of Gringotts, too. No, he had to face up to whatever was wrong. 

“Just let whatever it is be curable,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Please.”

* * *

“I see,” Severus said, sounding amused, as Harry finished his tale. 

“Are you _laughing_ at me?” Harry pulled back to examine Severus’ face, and then pouted at him. “Here I am, worried sick that you’re dying, and you’re laughing at me!” 

“I’m sorry.” Unable to resist, Severus lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the sulky mouth. “But your friends – much as it pains me to admit this – were right. There is nothing wrong with me, Harry, nor do I have a secret child.” 

“You’re not dying?” asked Harry, unsure whether to smack Severus for scaring him, or hug him because he wasn’t dying. 

Severus smiled at him. “No, I’m not dying,” he said, his voice deepening. “I’d be perfectly prepared to show you, later, just how . . . _healthy_ I am.” 

“Um . . .” was all the response Harry could manage, as a surge of heat flashed through him. Chuckling, Severus forcefully levered Harry a step away from himself, allowing him time to kick his brain back on. “If you’re not dying, then why—?” Harry began. 

Severus sighed. “You remember Herb Lotterdown?” Harry nodded. The elderly wizard had been their neighbour until a charm unexpectedly backfiring had killed him. “After his first wife died of dragon pox, Herb was alone for a long time until he met Maude, his second wife. Unfortunately, he didn’t leave a will when he died, and so his children are busy scrambling to snatch every last Galleon from his estate that they can, while Maude and her son are left with barely a Knut to their name.” 

He paused, and then continued in a softer tone. “I do not have any family left, and I don’t have much for them to fight over even if I did, but I do not want anybody to ever be left in any doubt that I would not care for you, even after I am gone.” 

“Oh, Severus . . .” Harry breathed, his eyes brimming with tears again. Abruptly, he flung his arms around Severus’ neck, almost toppling them over again, and buried his face into Severus’ shoulder. “ _I love you!_ ” he bawled, although it was so muffled that Severus nearly asked him to repeat himself. 

A grumbling sound from nearby reminded him that a goblin was waiting for them. Goblins did not do _waiting_ very well, so he hastily pried Harry off. 

“Come along, we mustn’t keep Tinoreack waiting,” he said. “Especially since she was kind enough to grant us this appointment today at fairly short notice.” 

Harry stepped back, sniffing. He dashed a hand under his nose. Severus winced, and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief as they turned towards the impatient goblin. “Merlin, Harry,” he said, under his breath as they reached her. “From the way you’re acting, anyone would think _you_ were pregnant . . .”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3608891.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1560671.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/863713.html).


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